


Inside Out

by archaeologist_d



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon Era, Canon Related, Canon Universe, Fear of crowds, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:01:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25774009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/archaeologist_d/pseuds/archaeologist_d
Summary: Merlin would have thought Arthur would visit the faire when it came to town. After all, there were jugglers and horses and colorful crowds and fun, but there was something else going on under that prattish exterior.
Relationships: Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 38





	1. Chapter 1

Merlin didn’t understand why Arthur didn’t want to enjoy the revels of the traveling faire. The jugglers, the fire-eaters, the dancing girls, even non-magical but definitely interesting exotic peacocks with their huge tails, were a treat.

But Arthur just grumped and moved away, closing the window so Merlin only saw the distortions of it all through the glass.

It was only later that the prat let Merlin go to the faire, mostly because Merlin nattered about it for so long that he wore Arthur down. But Arthur couldn’t help getting in a last shot, saying that Merlin had a mind of a child and rolling his eyes, and then reminding him not to come back in the morning with an aching head because Arthur would make Merlin take Gaius’s hangover potion. That alone made Merlin vow not to drink anything stronger than watered-down wine. Gaius’s potions were the worst.

After sampling fruit pies, trying his hand at throwing daggers – without magic of course, watching a Punch-and-Judy show with puppets in lively costume, and shooing away one persistent peacock who kept wagging his tail at Merlin, he caught up with Morgana and Gwen.

Morgana was smiling indulgently at Gwen who was trying her best to toss a hoop over a bottle and win a prize. Merlin was tempted to give it a little push so that she’d win something. She deserved it. But Morgana just laughed, and the barker gave Gwen an embroidered handkerchief as a reward for nearly winning. People were always trying to butter up the royals with gifts and tokens and by extension those that royals favored, but in this case, it made Gwen smile and that’s all that was needed.

After that, they ate more pies, shared gossip about Mary the cook and one of the stable boys, admired the horses in the ring as they danced around, and generally had a marvelous time. Merlin didn’t even get drunk which he counted as a win.

But as darkness fell and the faire closed for the night, Merlin said, “Arthur wouldn’t come. I tried but….”

Morgana spoke up, “He never goes to these sorts of things. If it’s a formal affair, then he’s obligated but otherwise, he hides in his room until they are gone. Although he won’t admit it. He’ll find some excuse or other.”

“But why? He’s faced down ogres and questing beasts and all manner of bandits and warlords. He’s no coward,” Merlin said.

Morgana shrugged. “As far as I know, he’s always been like that.”

But as Merlin turned away, Gwen looked guilty. So Merlin just stared at her until she started babbling. “I shouldn’t tell you this. It’s not a secret, but he never talks about it and it was pretty scary at the time and people will… I mean… some people might mock him for it, and while he’s a, sorry my Lady, but he’s a not always a nice person, still it’s not right that he’d be tormented for what happened to him as a child, you know?” 

Morgana turned toward Gwen, looking as if she had no idea what Gwen was talking about. “Oh, I would love to hear about it.”

Knowing Morgana would tease Arthur for any weakness, Gwen turned stubborn instead. “My Lady, begging your pardon, but if you are going to ridicule him for it, I’d rather not tell you. It wouldn’t be right.”

Then Gwen stood there, looking very upset, wringing her hands, biting at her lip, but she also had a mulish look in her eyes. And she was silent which was unusual for Gwen.

Finally, Morgana relented. “Very well. I promise you, Gwen, that I will not mock Arthur for anything in this story nor will I tell him that I know about it. Is that sufficient?”

Gwen gave her a huge smile, then turned to Merlin.

Merlin threw up his hands. “Of course. Arthur may be a prat, but what happened to him as a kid stays a secret.”

Reaching over, Morgana linked her arm with Gwen’s, Merlin walking next to them, and then the three of them found a quiet place in the far corner of the courtyard and sat down. 

“It was awful. I only heard about it because my mum was maid to Sir Leon’s mum, Lady Eleanor, and I wasn’t supposed to hear but you know how kids are. I was always under foot.” Gwen looked around to make sure no one else was listening. “Arthur was maybe six and he’d been talking about the faire for ages, He’d even bugged Lady Eleanor to intercede because King Uther didn’t want him to go. Somehow Arthur finally wore him down, but unfortunately, he gave the guards the slip once he was there. I don’t know why. Maybe he just wanted to have fun and be wild for once.”

“I can’t picture Arthur having fun. Wild maybe if he’s hunting or playing knight, but having fun, no,” Merlin said.

“He was different after.” Gwen looked down at her hands, winding the handkerchief she’d ‘won’ around her fingers. “They kidnapped him and… King Uther didn’t want to pay the ransom. He’s….” Gwen’s voice softened into a whisper. “A miser with money. I don’t know. Maybe he thought he could threaten them or bluff his way through. But when they finally found Arthur, it was days later, and he was hurt pretty badly. My mum said that he cried when Gaius set his leg, and a couple of fingers, too. And he refused to come out of his rooms.”

Morgana said, “He’s fine now, well except for the emotions. He’s like his father in that.”

“I think he’d have been all right eventually, but the king wouldn’t let Arthur show any fear after. He’d… beat him sometimes or throw him into the dungeon if he did and he was only a kid.” Gwen looked like she was going to cry. “I think it really affected him.”

“Poor Arthur. That’s awful,” Merlin said. He was thinking of just how hard it must have been, to be injured and hurt and then have his father beat him into submission. No wonder Arthur wouldn’t show emotions. It’s a miracle that he was functional at all.

Putting her arm around Gwen’s shoulder, Morgana said, “Thank you for telling us. It explains a lot. And I promise I won’t hold it over Arthur. Much as he’s an annoyance, he’s still got a good heart under all that bluster.”

Merlin said, “I promise, too. It sounds like he’s still not over it.”

Gwen nodded. “He probably never will be.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin should have held his tongue. But when has Merlin ever done something that obvious?

* * *

Merlin didn’t say anything. Apparently, neither did Morgana although it must have cost her dearly not to. Gwen hovered a bit, watching them both for any slip ups, but after a while, she relaxed and returned to her bubbly self.

But although Merlin didn’t mock Arthur for it, he did watch him more closely after that. Most of the time, Arthur just glared at him or insulted him, and Merlin gave back as good as he got because that was pretty much the only way they could communicate. It felt comfortable and comforting. He did make sure to phrase the insults in a lighter tone and he smiled when he did it.

Arthur didn’t say anything, but Merlin could see him struggling not to ask. For the most part, they ignored the changed dynamic between the two of them and went on as before.

But when he was attending Arthur and Arthur talking with his father, Merlin began to notice some of Arthur’s behaviour. If the king and Arthur were having a normal conversation, Arthur would stand there and nod, sometimes even smiling if they were in agreement. But if Uther were angry about something, not even with something Arthur could control, when he called on Arthur for an opinion, for a half-second Arthur would freeze, his shoulders rising as if to protect himself, then he must have realized what he was doing because he would deliberately loosen his stance and answer his father in a calm, toneless voice.

If Uther were truly angry with Arthur, shouting at him or scowling down at him and laying into him with blistering invective, Arthur would stand there, still as stone and take it, then wait a few heartbeats before replying. Never raising his voice, never doing anything that might drive Uther further into fury.

Afterwards, Arthur would go out and train, either beating his knights to a standstill or else taking it out on the straw dummy that stood in the field. The servants would replace it later, Merlin noted, because the dummy would be nothing but a tiny bit of straw and pulped wood when Arthur was done. His sword, too, would have to be replaced, too pitted and bent to repair.

It all came to a head a few days before another faire was to make its way to Camelot.

Merlin was not paying attention for once. He’d not gotten much sleep the night before and Arthur had been particularly annoying that day. So when Arthur said that he was going hunting for a week and he expected Merlin to accompany him, Merlin said, “But what about the faire? Gwen and I were looking forward to it.”

“There will be another one soon enough. Except for winter, they come here every couple of months, like the plague or a rat infestation.” Arthur threw his gloves in Merlin’s direction, then sat down and put his feet up on the table.

Arthur’s boots were covered with mud. Merlin had just cleaned them that morning, and he knew he’d have to clean them all over again by nightfall. So this time, a little miffed, he didn’t think about what he was saying. “Maybe we could postpone the hunting a day or two? It’s not like the deer you love to kill are going anywhere. And the faire will have those fruit pies you like so much.”

Arthur glared at him. “If you think I’d go to the faire with you, you are an idiot.”

“It will be fun. The horses were great last time, dancing around, and there was sword-fighting and even a dancing bear.” By this time, Merlin was getting wound up, his hands gesturing his excitement, his voice growing eager.

Arthur sat up, scowling at Merlin. “I said no.”

That was when Merlin made his fatal mistake. Not looking at Arthur as he put the gloves away, not really thinking about it at all, he said, “You don’t have to worry. I’ll be at your side, protecting you as I always do.”

Merlin knew the second he’d said it that it was the wrong thing to say.

“What?” Arthur’s voice was like ice. When Merlin turned around to look, the glare Arthur sent him could have frozen most of Camelot.

Trying to think of what to do, he took a step back, mumbling, “Umm… I’ll be at your side. I’m always at your side.”

Arthur was already half-way across the room, Merlin stumbling further back. Merlin reached for the door, thinking to escape and let Arthur cool down, but Arthur pushed it shut again.

Eyes narrowed, Arthur said, “Protecting me?”

“Well, yeah, I do that all the time.” Merlin tried to be nonchalant about it, shrugging as it were nothing.

But Arthur wasn’t having any of it. “And you think you need to protect me at the faire? As if I’m some kind of weakling?”

Not knowing what to say or do to make it better, his mouth dry, Merlin said, “No, not… just when you are in danger. It’s….”

If Merlin thought Arthur cold before, now he was surprised the entire world wasn’t covered in ice. Arthur looked dangerous as hell, and Merlin had never seen him so out of control.

Grabbing Merlin’s throat, pushing him back against the door so roughly that Merlin thought he’d have bruises across his entire back later, Arthur hissed, “Who told you? About the faire?”

Merlin tried to get Arthur to let go. He was having trouble breathing and he wasn’t sure Arthur even knew just how tightly he was holding Merlin. Still he grabbed at Arthur’s hands, trying to pull them away from his throat. Merlin gasped, “No one, no one told me.”

“You’re a crap liar.” If anything, Arthur’s hands were tightening. “So you do think I’m a weakling.”

Arthur looked wild, almost as if he didn’t recognize Merlin. Pulling Arthur’s thumbs back, giving Merlin a respite, he was able to say, “Arthur, you are the bravest man I know. I don’t think….” But Arthur shook him, Merlin couldn’t think. Finally, he was able to wheeze out, “Let go, you’re hurting me.”

It took a moment, but Arthur looked down at his hands and then let Merlin go. As Merlin huddled at Arthur’s feet, pulling in much needed air, Arthur scurried back, putting the table between them as if horrified by what he had done, then shouted, “Get out of my sight.”

Merlin slid up, holding onto the wall to make sure he wasn’t going to fall over. He finally gulped out, “But….”

“Out!” Arthur shrieked at him.

Merlin got out.

Shit. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin and Arthur aren’t talking to each other. Until they are.

* * *

Merlin felt like he was being turned inside out. Arthur refused to talk to him and the day after their argument, Arthur went off hunting with Leon and some of his old hangers-on and left Merlin behind. Deliberately.

It would have been fine. Arthur sometimes went hunting without him when Merlin was sick or if Gaius begged Arthur to let Merlin help him when illness struck Camelot but never without a good reason. Never like this. It was a slap in the face.

More importantly, it was an obvious warning not to question Arthur too closely about anything. Certainly not about faires or his relationship with Uther.

It even poisoned Merlin’s pleasure at going back to the faire with Morgana and Gwen. When Morgana started to ask about the bruises around his neck, Merlin just shook his head and talked about maybe trying for another prize for Gwen or watching the puppet show. Luckily, both took the hint, although Gwen looked sad and Morgana was scowling a bit. But soon they were laughing at Merlin’s pathetic tries at knife-throwing, and the moment passed. 

* * *

Arthur came back the day after the faire left. The party had been wildly successful, with two deer and a boar to fatten the larder. But he didn’t ask for Merlin, didn’t send for him at all.

Merlin wasn’t going to take it lying down, though. He’d been doing his chores while Arthur was gone and Arthur’s chambers had never been so clean, his armor and swords gleaming, even Arthur’s shirts mended properly and put away.

So after a day of being ignored, the next morning, Merlin barged in, not knocking, and set down Arthur’s breakfast, then began to open the curtains.

Under the covers, there was a muffled sound of grumbling, then as Arthur shoved his head up, he said, flat and hard, “Get out. George will attend me until I say otherwise. You are dismissed.”

For a moment, Merlin didn’t say anything. If the prat wanted to sack him, then he better have a damn good reason, other than a fit of pique. “George has been reassigned. The other servants are all busy with cleaning up after all the guests, so unfortunately, Sire, you are stuck with me for now.”

“I don’t want you here,” Arthur snarled. The glare Arthur sent him would have killed a lesser man.

Instead of yelling back at him, in a very calm voice, trying to make it sound like it was nothing when it was really everything, Merlin said, “Well, you can starve for all I care, but Gaius would glare at me if I came back so unless you are prepared to throw me out and we both know you can, thanks for asking about the bruises by the way, I’ll just do my bloody job.”

When there was only silence, Merlin counted it a win. He started to lay out Arthur’s clothes for the day. “You have a meeting in half an hour with your father, then the council meeting, and afterwards several petitions. I think you will find the one about the pig getting into a lady’s chambers, chomping on her shoes, then dragging her best dress through the mud, might be fun. I will bring you lunch after. Afternoon is training, although you might go easy on the knights as some of them were pretty much in their cups for most of the faire. There is nothing planned for supper. I assume you will let me know if I am to bring it here or you will be eating with the king.”

Walking over to the writing desk, Merlin took up the parchment, then held it up for Arthur to see, then put it back down. “I’ve written a speech for the Tinker’s Guild awards tomorrow. Please let me know what else you need me to do. Otherwise, I will see you at lunch.”

The silence was deafening. Bowing, Merlin walked out, then as the door closed behind him, there was a clang of metal, probably a goblet, bouncing against the wood.

That went as well as Merlin expected. As in not at all. 

* * *

Arthur continued to be an arse for days. Merlin was finding it harder and harder to deal with him. He didn’t sack Merlin which was a win, but the continued silence was getting to Merlin.

Other people were noticing, too. Merlin even heard Morgana yelling at Arthur, and Arthur was an absolute pillock after.

It all came to a head a week later. Uther went into a tirade about some such nonsense or other that Arthur had no control over, but as always Arthur just stood there and let his father blame him for everything.

Afterwards, everyone scurried out of Arthur’s way. By the time dinner came, the practice dummy in the training yard was nothing but straw bits and kindling and another of Arthur’s swords was ruined.

Merlin decided it had gone on long enough.

Bringing in dinner, he found Arthur with his head in his hands. When he finally looked up at Merlin, he could see that Arthur was exhausted and his eyes red.

Looking away, letting Arthur have some privacy, Merlin said softly, “When I was six, maybe seven, I almost drowned. The bigger boys loved to play in the deep end of the creek but in the spring, the water runs swift through rocks and churned mud. My mum had told me time and again not to play there, but you know how kids are, they don’t listen to parents, not when there’s a shiny thing to explore.”

Arthur was frowning at Merlin, but he didn’t tell him to shut up, just sat there, silent, listening.

“My mum found me after, covered in mud, water in my lungs, and she tells me for days afterwards, my life hovered in the balance.” Merlin shrugged. “I don’t remember that part, but for the longest time, I refused to learn to swim, refused to go near water at all. Even now, I’m hesitant to go in water deeper than my knees.”

“I noticed you seem to avoid baths,” Arthur said. A normal voice, and a little sarcastic. Like it used to be.

“Well, you take too many so we balance out.” Merlin gave him a little smile, then said, “You’ve met my mum. Afterwards, she treated me like glass. She’d follow me around, make me tell her every place I’d been, what I’d been doing, and I felt like I was drowning all over again. But I love my mum and I couldn’t tell her how I felt.”

Merlin took a step toward Arthur. “But it couldn’t last. I’d been rebelling more and more, sneaking out, doing stupid things that only made things worse. One day, I fell out of a tree – don’t ask, and I hid my sprained ankle. It hurt like blazes, but I knew if I told her, she’d never let me out of our hut ever again.” Merlin hobbled a few steps, mimicking an injured ankle. “Only a kid would think a parent wouldn’t notice something like that. But when she asked, I blew up at her.”

“Your mother is a saint,” Arthur said. “I’m surprised she didn’t kill you somewhere along the way just to have some peace.”

Merlin snickered. “Yeah, I wouldn’t have been surprised. But she listened and she thought about it and as she was bandaging up my ankle, she agreed to back off. I think we were both surprised.” Merlin gave a little laugh. “But it worked. I took less chances because I wasn’t rebelling, and she could count on me more often because I was more careful.”

“And the reason for this story?” Arthur said.

“I had to stand up to my mum, even though I loved her so much, even though she was doing what she thought was right,” Merlin said. Then hesitating, worried that Arthur might take it the wrong way, “I think you need to stand up to your father. Otherwise, it’s going to kill you one day.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin and Arthur have a little talk about expectations.

* * *

Surprisingly, Arthur didn’t yell at Merlin. Instead, he thought about what Merlin had said, seeming to mull it over. Finally, Arthur said, “Standing up to my father isn’t possible. He is the king, after all.”

Merlin let out a long sigh of relief. If Arthur was willing to see reason, or just listen to Merlin even if he didn’t take Merlin’s advice, they might be okay. He’d missed Arthur so much. He wished he could make it all better somehow, but he knew that it had to be Arthur’s decision, Arthur’s bravery, Arthur’s willingness to say no to Uther that would turn the tide. But he wanted Arthur to know that he’d always have Arthur’s back.

Walking over to Arthur, Merlin didn’t even think about standing over him. He didn’t want to give Arthur any reason to feel that Merlin was trying to badger or overwhelm him, not when Arthur was finally opening up. Instead, crouching down next to Arthur’s chair, looking up into Arthur’s startled eyes, Merlin said, “I noticed that he gives you the hardest tasks. I noticed that you struggle with them, but always you are successful because you are brave and resourceful and smarter than you look.”

“Is that a compliment?” Arthur said, his mouth twitching as if he wanted to smile. “Who are you and what have you done with Merlin?”

Merlin just shook his head. “Don’t let it go to that pea brain of yours. I’m sure the next moment, you’ll be the clotpole you always are.”

Arthur huffed, an almost snort, then said, “I’m sure my brain is bigger than yours, idiot.”

“I’m sure you think so.” Merlin gave him a quick grin, then sobered. “Arthur, you are the bravest man I know but you aren’t invincible. You do what your father insists upon even if it’s impossible and when you bring back the prize he demands, he just tosses it aside.”

Arthur’s face was pinched at that, but Merlin knew that he needed the hard truths. At least Arthur wasn’t yelling at him or even pushing him aside. Emboldened, Merlin put his hand on Arthur’s arm, both to steady himself and to connect with Arthur, hoping that he’d hear Merlin and truly listen.

When Arthur didn’t do anything, didn’t move away or yell at Merlin for such familiarity, Merlin’s heart eased just a little. Maybe Arthur would listen after all. 

“He doesn’t reward you for it. He doesn’t even tell you that it was well done. He doesn’t give you any peace, just gives you another task, harder next time.” Merlin squeezed Arthur’s arm a little, then let go and leaning back, stared up into Arthur’s eyes. “Someday, you won’t be able to complete whatever it is. Because it will be too hard and too dangerous for anyone, even the most courageous, even the most able of knights. And then you’ll be dead.”

“Merlin,” Arthur said, “He’s the king. He gets to say who lives and who dies.” 

Frowning a little, Merlin said, “It is one thing to send out a cadre of knights to overcome adversity. It’s quite another to send you without backup. And yes, I’m your backup, but I’m sure the king doesn’t see me as anything more than an annoyance or maybe even a liability.”

“I’ve had to rescue you a dozen times. Of course, you are a liability. You’re a menace, perhaps the greatest menace this kingdom has ever faced.” Arthur’s smile didn’t reach his eyes, though.

For a moment, Merlin worried that Arthur had found out about his magic. But when Arthur just sat there, waiting, Merlin gave him a little grin, half-taunting, half-relieved. “Har, har. I’ll remember that next time you want a hot bath or a mince pie in the middle of the night.” Sobering, Merlin said, “I think he’s testing you to see when and how you will break. But I know you. You won’t break, you’ll take it and take it until no one could survive. Don’t you see? He’s killing you by inches and you let him. Yes, he’s the king, but he’s also your father and you need to call him out on it.”

At that, Arthur stood up and started pacing. “And how do you expect me to do that? Just walk up to him and tell him no when something needs to be done? I’m responsible for the kingdom’s well-being as much as my father.”

“Use your own judgement. I’ve seen you in action. I know you can be brilliant at times – and no, don’t let that go to your head. Give him alternatives, ones based in knowledge and judgment. You’ve been out there a lot more often than he has. You know your people.” Merlin stood up, leaning against the table.

“I’ll think about it,” Arthur said. He looked like he meant it, too.

And then there was a last truth. Merlin wasn’t sure how Arthur would take it, though. “One more thing. Next time there’s a faire, you need to go.”

“No,” Arthur said, fast and hard and final. He glared at Merlin a moment, then looked away. “No.”

Merlin reached over and grasped Arthur’s arm, stilling him. Looking deep into Arthur’s troubled eyes, Merlin said, “For my sake. Morgana and Gwen are the worst. Last time, they made me try on one of the dresses Morgana wanted to buy and it was embarrassing.”

“I thought you liked wearing dresses,” Arthur said, giving him a little grin.

“I am wrong. _You_ are the worst!” Merlin rolled his eyes, then said, “Look, clotpole, I was checking that dress for moths. But never mind that. At the faire, crowds gathered. People were snickering. Even Gwen, my _former_ friend, looked like she was trying not to laugh. Please, Arthur, you are my only hope.” 

“I’ll think about it.”

Merlin grinned. He’d count that as a win. For now.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin and Arthur had a mission, kill the three-headed snake. But Uther wasn’t pleased.

* * *

Merlin had to hand it to Arthur. When Arthur decided something, he went for it, and at least the first time he tried to oppose Uther’s command, he was more subtle than Merlin would have expected. 

Arthur didn’t tell Uther no. Instead, he gave reasons, good reasons, why the mission to rid Greenbriar of a giant snake with three heads might include talking with Gaius about possible tactics and weaponry beyond sinew and steel. Arthur offered alternatives to just blundering in there with a bunch of new recruits and gleaming swords. And Arthur didn’t use the word blunder, either, although Merlin was thinking it.

When Uther turned stubborn, insisting that Arthur leave immediately and alone since Arthur was reticent about using the untried knights, Arthur nodded and seemed to capitulate. Merlin was disappointed, but he just sighed and followed Arthur out of the council chamber, thinking that they’d have to saddle the horses right away if they were to leave before mid-day.

But Arthur didn’t head for the stables. Instead he went to Gaius to ask his advice about giant three-headed snakes.

Merlin wanted to crow with joy that finally Arthur was stepping out into his own, not just as some extension of Uther.

Gaius’s advice even worked. Had they not found out ahead of time about cauterizing the snake heads as Arthur cut them off, Camelot might have had a dead prince or Merlin having to use his magic and being found out. Either outcome could have been disastrous.

Instead, the villagers at Greenbriar rejoiced and thanked Arthur profusely for saving them.

Of course, when they returned, dragging one of the snake heads back as a prize for Uther, Uther must have known what Arthur had done.

Sitting on the throne, surrounded by courtiers, staring at the snake head, then scowling at Arthur, Uther said, in a cold and forbidding voice, “I see you have brought back a trophy for Camelot.”

Arthur bowed his head a moment. “The village of Greenbriar is safe. They send their thanks, Sire.”

Uther stared at Arthur, flicking his eyes toward Merlin, then back again to Arthur. “You had help.”

“Merlin was there to take care of the horses and cook the meals, nothing more. I and I alone defeated the beast, as you commanded.”

That wasn’t quite true. Merlin had readied the torches as Arthur fought the monster, then cauterized the necks as each snake head was removed. It was a nasty business, but together, they proved a smooth and formidable team. Arthur even thanked him later and called him brave. The memory was still warming Merlin’s heart.

But Uther wasn’t done. “I forbid you from seeking out Gaius and yet you did so. Defying my command to set out immediately. When lives were at stake, you thought yourself better than your king.”

“Gaius was instrumental in helping us defeat the creature. I thought….” Arthur’s voice had turned flat and tone-less, reminding Merlin of the old Arthur, the one scarred by years of Uther’s spite.

“Enough.” Standing up, signaling for the guards, Uther said, “You will learn obedience. Perhaps a night in the dungeon will remind you of it.”

Merlin expected Arthur to flinch, as he’d done so many times before. But instead, he bowed, then marched head high into the cell, the guards in his wake. Merlin followed, thinking to share Arthur’s sentence, but one of the guards shoved him aside and told him that the king said only Prince Arthur was to be punished.

“Let it go, Merlin. It’s only one night. It’s not like I didn’t expect it.” Arthur settled down, testing the bed for strength, bouncing a little on it, then leaning back against the wall. “He’ll let me out in the morning, then yell some more and we’ll see then.”

Merlin scowled at that. “It’s not right. You saved an entire village. Why can’t he see that?”

Arthur let out a sigh, shaking his head a little as if he couldn’t understand why Merlin was being so thick. Finally, when Merlin just stared at him, confused, Arthur must have realized that Merlin didn’t understand the dynamics of royalty. Why would he after all? Ealdor’s hierarchy was very simple, everyone helped out, everyone reaped the rewards. If one person shirked their duty, it could be devastating for the rest of the village. But it was based on cooperation, not commands.

“Merlin, I’m a threat to him. Yes, I’m his heir, but if people start coming to me instead of him, he’ll lose face. He’ll count that as weakness, and he’ll have to act.” Arthur shrugged as if it were perfectly obvious.

Merlin thought about it a moment, considering all the ramifications, then said, “Was I wrong, then… to push you?”

“No, I needed it. I need to be my own man if I’m ever going to be king. I can’t be a reflection of my father.”

Merlin was thrilled to hear it. Giving Arthur a huge grin, he sat down next to the cell door, and tried to get comfortable. “Then as your own man, I’ll keep you company. So you won’t be alone.”

“You should get some rest. It’s not like I’ve not been here before, you idiot.” But although he gestured Merlin to go, his hands shooing him away, a momentary scowl on his face, when Merlin didn’t leave, Arthur looked pleased.

“All the more reason to stay.” Merlin gave him another grin, then settled back against the stone wall. “Did I ever tell you about the time Will and I accidently let out Old Man Simmon’s prize pig? Watching Hildagard running across the field and Simmon yelling his head off about it was hilarious. Well, until my mum found out. Boy, was she mad. She made me slop his pigs for a week after.”

Arthur rolled his eyes, as if he couldn’t believe he’d be subject to the tales of Merlin’s mischief. “Merlin, how many stories do you have?”

“Loads. Did I tell you about the time we smoked out our hut to kill the spiders in the thatch? It was raining the little buggers for days after.” Merlin gave a little shudder. “I hate spiders. I know they eat bugs and such but really, they’re nasty things. Have you ever looked at one close-up? They’ve got those huge eyes and mandibles and hairy legs and… ugh.”

“Merlin, I’m glad you are here.” Arthur said, his voice fond. It sounded like he really meant it.

It made Merlin feel good inside to hear it. “Me, too.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur finally goes to the faire.

* * *

Uther didn’t let up. He sent Arthur on several more dangerous missions and each time if Arthur objected to something or indeed anything in public, Uther would throw him into the dungeons for a night or two. It almost became a game between them.

But as the days grew shorter, Arthur grew more confident. No longer flinching, no longer lowering his eyes, still, he was the obedient son for the most part. In public, yes, but privately, he and Uther had a series of arguments that got loud enough to penetrate the solid wood doors of the council chamber. Merlin wasn’t privy to them, but afterwards Arthur would often let out little hints about what went on.

Surprisingly, Arthur also relaxed more, insulted Merlin more, even smiled at Morgana more which drove her crazy.

But most important of all, Arthur agreed, if somewhat reluctantly, to go to the faire with Merlin.

* * *

Merlin was over the moon with excitement. Not only was Arthur finally coming out of his shell but there was going to be a play, not just with puppets, but real people on stage. Merlin didn’t understand why men played all the parts, something about modesty and decorum, so Merlin tried hard not to laugh when Helen of Troy came onstage decked in colorful clothes and a long beard. And when ‘she’ and Paris were moaning out their passion in the garden – a bunch of fake trees wasn’t a garden but Merlin thought he’d just ignore that part, it was so over the top that Merlin had to slip away for fear of Arthur jabbing him in the side to keep him quiet. He had enough bruises as it was.

Afterwards, Arthur just rolled his eyes and said, “You know that it was a play from ancient Greece. And it’s said that my family is descended from Aeneas who escaped Troy. So in a way, it’s the story of my family.”

“Some family,” Merlin said, snickering. He stopped when Arthur sent him a glare. “Arthur, I tried hard not to laugh but the beards and the moaning and when Paris kept spitting out Helen’s hair. There were bits of apple in her beard, did you notice?”

Shaking a finger in Merlin’s face, close enough that Merlin tried hard not to cross his eyes, Arthur said, “Of course, I noticed. Who wouldn’t? But if you keep this up, I won’t take you to another faire.”

Merlin grinned as he stepped back out of Arthur’s way. At least Arthur was thinking about going to more faires and that was definitely a win for Merlin. Turning, using his chin to point at the last of the players taking their bows, Merlin said, “Well, at least Achilles and his Patroclus were sweet. Sacrificing everything for love. I hope I find that kind of love someday.”

“I hope so, too.” For a moment, Arthur sounded wistful.

Not wanting Arthur to go all sad on him, the man got enough of that with Uther, Merlin said, “So are you enjoying your faire? We’ve not done the knife throwing or dunking for apples, and the horse dancing is next. Did you notice that Morgana won another prize for Gwen? She’s really good at that. And Gwen giving her the last piece of pie.”

“How come you didn’t get me any pie?” Arthur was looking at him as if he were the worst servant in the Five Kingdoms. He was pouting, too, the git.

Tart and trying to sound annoyed but not really, nodding down toward Arthur’s stomach, Merlin said, “You’d already had two and I didn’t want to put another notch in your belt. It’s straining a bit as it is. Any more and I’ll have to let out your clothes. Again.”

Pretending offense, Arthur sputtered a little, “I’ll have you know I’m fighting fit.”

“Fighting maybe but fit…” With that, Merlin gave Arthur a shove, then took off at a run, grinning as he looked behind him.

Arthur was right on his tail, and even running as fast as he could, Merlin was tackled within seconds. Then they were both rolling around in the grass, wrestling to see who could get the upper hand. Finally, Arthur, lummox that he was, sat on Merlin and began raising his arms in a kind of sitting down victory dance.

Laughing so much that he could hardly breathe, Merlin didn’t notice Morgana and Gwen staring down at them both. Finally, Morgana said, “I believe the wrestling competition is in the next field over. Although you might not want to wear Merlin out since he’s been talking about the dancing horses for days now and it starts in a few minutes.”

Arthur didn’t move though. He just smirked at Morgana and bounced a little on Merlin’s stomach. “Merlin just has to overpower me and he’s free to go. Right, Merlin?”

Fighting fit, indeed. The arse was heavy. Knowing that he didn’t have the strength to throw him off without being sneaky about it, Merlin used other tactics. Pointing to the food tent, Merlin said, in a loud obnoxious voice, “Oh, look Arthur, they just brought out more pies.”

Arthur glared down at him, looking as if he knew Merlin was insulting him but Arthur didn’t seem to care. Chuckling, he stood, then pulled Merlin up, too, before leaving them behind as he started toward the food tent.

For a moment, Merlin stood there, listening to the sound of laughter and cheers coming from the faire, music, too, and the jingle of horses.

“Arthur is happier than I’ve ever seen him.” Morgana said, watching Arthur walk away. “I assume it’s all your doing.”

Looking at them both, he shook his head. “Not me. I’m just the bumbling servant who gets tackled on a regular basis.”

Gwen giggled, covering her mouth with her hand. “He certainly likes to do that.”

Merlin grinned. “It beats getting bashed on the head with a mace which he also likes to do. And swinging swords at me and using me for target practice. I’ll take wrestling any day.”

“He does like having you around,” Morgana said, trying to hide a smile. “Despite him being a prat, he’s grown kinder. And don’t think we haven’t noticed your influence.”

“He’ll be a great king someday.” Softer, almost in a whisper, Merlin said, “And I hope he’ll stay my friend, too.”

But before they could say anything else, Arthur came bounding up the hill, shouting, “Come on, Merlin, you’re going to miss the horses.” Then from behind his back, he brought out a pie and handed it to Merlin. “Oh, and it’s blackberry, your favorite. You can eat it on the way.”

And Merlin did.

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Merlin characters are the property of Shine and BBC. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.


End file.
